Her Portrait In Black
by Digital Tempest
Summary: 1sentence challenge fic. Gift fic. Death won’t hold her as tight as he will. Dracula x Storm, because I’m old school like that.
1. 01 to 05

**Disclaimer:** If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended. That you did but slumber'd here while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme is no more yielding then a dream. Gentles, do not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend _(Shakespeare)._ I don't own any characters recognizable from _X-Men_. Marvel, et al, owns all characters. No copyright infringement intended.

**Foreword:** Written for the livejournal community 1sentence at a friend's request. The object is to write one sentence based on the words given (there are 50), but they can't be related. At least, they're not supposed to be. I have done this before many times. Once with Wolverine and Storm in the movie-verse (Snapshots on my profile, if you're interested) and numerous times in other fandoms outside of X-Men. I didn't do the words in order this time, though. Title and summary inspired by the Atreyu song "Her Portrait In Black." I am a semicolon whore.

**Dedication:** To Sparkle, rock the fuck on is right. Rocking out makes me slightly headache-y, though. Now, may I please write about Hamilton Slade and Jack Starsmore? I'm going through some serious _infanity_ where those two are involved.

As a side note, special thanks to Delilah (Delia) for the read through.

———

**Victory  
**As he licks the last remnants of her blood from his fingers, feeling her power course through his veins—a sweet, sweet poison, he smiles a sardonic smile—he has won; she belongs to him, now.

**Walking  
**In the shadow he lurks, as she walks down the empty streets alone; she glances over her shoulders, slightly defiant, slightly afraid; now what's a vampire to do about such a beautiful woman walking home late at night?

**Breaking  
**"You did this to me," she screams, throwing the mirror at him; he doesn't flinch as the fragile glass shatters at his feet, muting the sound of her sobs—she'd get used to it after a century or two.

**Waltz  
**She danced for him—not because he demanded it, but because she wanted to; barely clothed, unbridled and primitive, on her knees, her movements simulating the well-known act, this was _definitely_ no gentlewoman's waltz.

**Belief  
**It was rare to hear talks of the _upyr_, the _strigoi_, the _vampiro_; no those beliefs were abandoned, shrugged off as mere fairytales; but if no one else in the world believed, he _knew_ she did.

———

**Author's Notes:** I am posting these five at a time. Some of these are speculative in nature—just a fanfic writer's what if. So, excuse a little artistic license. These really don't have to be read in any certain order, but I would be lying if I said that some of these couldn't be considered connected, but how they're connected I'll let _you_ decide. Most of these will probably favor the Dracula/Storm pairing because... it's Dracula! ;)5 down, 45 to go.


	2. 06 to 10

**Smirk**  
She wakes with a jolt, putting her hand to her throat, the punctures on her neck throbbing insistently; she sees him in her dreams, but when she wakes, nothing remains save for a smirk fading into the darkness of her mind.

**Nuance**  
The change in her was slight like the subtle shifting of the winds, but she was different, nonetheless, though she claimed she felt perfectly normal despite the attack; sometimes, she talks about a man who comes to her at night, and when asked who he is, she doesn't know how to answer at all.

**Virtuous**  
She shudders when the cool fingertips brush the inside of her inner thigh, too close—not close enough; a slight shift in her hips causes him to laugh at her need; a virtuous woman tried to protect that which made her "virtuous"; she didn't give in to dark seducers.

**Breathing**  
Her room smells of death and immortality, her breath just a shallow hitch in her chest; she looks to the sunshine beaming through her window, knowing it would be the last time she'd feel the sun on her skin; with her dying breath, she becomes a child of the night.

**Wishes**  
Wishes are a mortal's reprieve, he scoffs at her; unlike him, she had years to go until the last remainder of humanity left her soul.


	3. 11 to 15

**Worry**  
He stops her on the sidewalk, not far from one of those modern pubs (horrid things they are), inviting her inside for a drink; "My friends will worry," she says warily; "Just _one_ drink," he says engagingly.

**Blessing**  
He speaks to her as a father speaks to a child who has done something wrong–with disappointment and ignominy; she doesn't feed quite right, yet, but with each kill, she becomes deadlier, more efficient, gradually earning his nods of approval.

**Questions**  
Every time they encounter each other, he has his pick and choose of questions he'll answer for her, much to her chagrin; he conveniently avoids the most important one of all, though, in all his arrogance and superiority—"Why?"

**Sordid**  
"I will kill you!" she screams at him, and he laughs at her, mocking and cruel; he straddles her hips, the bed breaking the silence as it creaks in response to the shift of weight; she tries to ignore the underlying sexuality of it all, choosing to hang on to her anger

**War**  
She thinks she understands the art of war, but she doesn't—tempered by her "professor's" unrealities of the way things should be; she doesn't quite grasp the concept that one man's idea of peace is another man's idea of destruction.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for all your reviews so far. :) I really need to stay away from my comic book collection. At the rate I'm going, nothing will ever be finished. 


	4. 16 to 20

**Quiet**  
His attack is swift and merciless, a tactic he'd perfected over the centuries, causing a silent scream to catch in her throat.

**Bane**  
She stared his wrath in the face when she should've been quavering under his fury; the very worst part of him was her.

**Quarrel**  
It's a futile struggle, a physical tug-of-war between their limbs, spawned by an argument; he subdues her easily, pinning her arms to the bed, a reminder that he is physically stronger; he is far too experienced, and she is far too weak.

**Natural**  
She accuses him of tampering with the natural order of things, the natural order of the world; what's so natural about a world where vampires exist?

**Wonders**  
The small wonders never cease to amaze him like the way he reveled in the secrets in the blood of the white-haired woman he'd preyed on.

* * *

**Author's notes:** Had to drop this project for a little while, but I'll be finishing it up over the next few days. 


End file.
